#jam
there is a place
there is a place
there is a place for this
and it's secure in my chest
bigger than my heart
more like my soul
there's a place for this
music
Aug 29, 2025
Aug 29, 2025 at 12:08 PM UTC
I imagine the witty hooks
of young ones in love.
He tells her, _"aren't you a strawberry
looking like a cherry on top!"_
_"We're in this jam together,_
_light of my eye my Sunjam."_
And how with a loaf of words,
he'd end with,
_"I'll let nothing get in between us;_
_but be between two slices of bread."_
Turning cheeks red and sweet.
Dec 19, 2021
Dec 19, 2021 at 10:10 AM UTC
Love is Coco Jam
And I offer it to you,
My brown faced darling,
The Warm days it pursues
I split the bread in half
Like we split the rest of days
In folders, files of living ails
And laughter for us two
Love is Coco Jam
For I'll spread it side to side
As equal measures did we seek
In Geometries of mind
You dip yours in your coffee
Like we dip our hungry Souls
Toward each day's living basket
That we carry in a stride
Nov 17, 2020
Nov 17, 2020 at 1:32 AM UTC
in the time that you see this i will be asleep in the bed all tied up in my thoughts like you said that i would and you always have been right that eventually i wouldnt stand in this fight and thats always been true thats always been you and you know what to do to make this all go through so just say those "nice" words to the back of my head sleeping soundly on top of my pillows of dread dreaming that the sounds like my heart would be
dead.
i dont want to hear it anymore i dont want to hear it anymore i dont want to hear it anymore i dont want to hear it anymore
i never wanted to hear it anymore
and thats why i blast the music until my ears bleed
to drown out the noises you keep sending raging after me
and i want to be free
see the world
see the free
and be me
but you keep chasing after the ends of my sentences begging to be apart of some world together
like this will last forever and that you have to fit yourself inside before the page runs out of lines to include us both in the same half a centimetre space
connected with no room to move
no room to breathe
no room to be free me or just simply be
so by the time that you see this hopefully i will be asleep and you will be asleep and you wont come to tell me your "nice" words again and wake me up to your screaming and we could all just go to sleep once without a fight of whos right and how youre right and new and true and how my blue is too much to live and breathe and
bloom.
Apr 24, 2020
Apr 24, 2020 at 3:14 AM UTC
Success!
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy Michael Burch
We need our children to keep us humble
between toast and marmalade;
there is no time for a ticker-tape parade
before bed, no award, no bright statuette
to be delivered for mending skinned knees,
no wild bursts of approval for shoveling snow.
A kiss is the only approval they show;
to leave us—the first great success they achieve.
I wrote this poem after fixing my son Jeremy some toast and getting a kiss in return. Keywords/Tags: children, success, parents, toast, jam, marmalade, skinned, knees, kiss, approval
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 6:01 AM UTC
A glass of milk
in the dorm
with you
tastes like being nine
at the seaside
in my aunt's house
after a long 7 pm sea swim
in the yard
making waffles,
one with chocolate
second one with uncle's peach jam
third one with cherry jam
topped off with a glass of milk
I had to hold with both of my small palms.
A glass of milk
with you
tastes like nostalgia.
Nov 21, 2019
Nov 21, 2019 at 4:38 PM UTC
How can your soul
roam across this world
while it holds no care?
Drinks jam out of its jars
And sleeps in a bus shelter
Behind the toothless grin
and the dreams of the Boulevard
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 2:50 PM UTC
Your cherry coloured lips used to
bring the coral blush on my cheeks.
But now it boils my crimson within,
leaving my face all scarlet with rage.
You were the apple of my eye,
as precious as ruby to me.
But now, wine and water seem the same,
and jam never tastes as sweet.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 1:06 PM UTC
A sweet sponge cake
With snow-white icing
And a single candle
As big as a basketball
The table's covered in silk
Confetti all over the walls
And the floor, too
It's time to celebrate
The candle lights up
They're hesitant
Too good to eat, they think
Noisemakers distract them
But there's no noisemakers to be found
One of them grabs the knife and sighs
It has to happen
The other make a wish
And the room goes dark
The knife makes a deep cut
Unexpectedly, jam comes out
They're scared
Invisible noisemakers continue to play
The cake remains still, unaffected by time
The one with the knife did not know what to do but throw it
And it hits another, but not the cake
Jam falls, drop by drop
The silky tablecloth gets ripped
It was never strong enough
Noise grows deafening
The birthday child cries
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 9:44 AM UTC
You looked outside the window and smiled
"Can you make some jam for us?"
Obliging, you did so
You didn't know what flavor they wanted
So you did every single one
Blueberry, raspberry, banana
A plethora of colors comes into view
You always wanted to be an artist
To embrace the colors you see
A chance to be happy
But you're stuck making jam for them
Forever and always
At least it tastes good
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
Knife cuts the scone smooth
Happy thoughts with bitter taste
Fragrant memories
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 4:07 PM UTC
Sticky
Always grabbing
For compliments
For approval
“You’re so pretty.”
Like jam hands
Young and desperate
Sweet and clingy
Searching
“They can’t resist a beautiful girl like you.”
Is that all I am?
“Beautiful” “Pretty”
That’s all they tell me
Am I nothing else?
“I wish I looked like you.”
Is there no head on my shoulders?
No spine in my back?
Is “pretty” all I have?
Am I nothing but a picture to look at?
“You’re the pretty friend.”
Gooey jam hands grabbing
For any kind words
Of how my looks dazzle
Because
That’s all I’ve ever heard.
Now I’m a "pretty” shell
With nothing worth noticing
Inside.
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 11:15 AM UTC
Breakfast for lunch,
Breakfast for supper.
Jam on toast,
I'll have another.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 1:30 PM UTC
Tasting the moist interior
with my lips...
my tongue tickling the innermost
places of delight..
Cream slips down my throat
as flavours
entice me
to consume every part greedily.
I lick my sticky lips, fulfilled I fall to sleep..
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 8:24 AM UTC
Her soul is wilting
Wilting
A word she knows all to well
All of her plants have started wilting long ago
How can you keep something else alive
When you're barely living yourself
Her leaves
Are crumbling
Split ends like spilt branches
He says:
"Your hair
Is only as good
As the head its growing on
And and your head
Isn't doing so well itself
How can you expect anything beautiful to grow from so much darkness.
Trees
Don't grow in the dark."
She
Tries to get her thoughts out of the Dark
The midnight abyss she calls her mind
But she
Has never been good at climbing
Cliff faces
look down
and laugh at her attempt to ascend
She
Pretends like she can't see them staring
Arms growing weak and weary
Her roots
Feel as if they're about to break
But she never gets a break
Never gets to rest
She's stressed
who would have guessed
That Behind
her Big smile
Lies
Wilting leaves
Split branches
And broken roots
Ready to fall apart
No one seems to see
That the only thing
Keeping her together
And Grounded
Is the ground itself
And even that
Is only as stable
As the world its sitting on.
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 11:08 AM UTC
Never down this road did I sing within a tune
Never while I wandered
did I ever think of you
Ever as I walked, I ached right down to bone
Never once your name is whispered
Walking too far from home
Break the spirit spill the wine
flood the river before my time
You can't predict the future when you can't see the past
I yearn for the groove and the rest of the **** that will never last
Take me down I simply do not care
We rebound with others in which we simply do compare
The Summer is gone now
its here for you
Spring is my jester
now I'm playing the shrew
I'll keep on walking until the end of day
With no companion
nor fair sense of play
Just walking down this endless path
Not leaving a trace for others to mark
No telling story where I might have laid
No fleeting glory in this trek I've made
I'll not speak outside the lines
as I walk on down
this great divide
Sit you down with a drink to sip
but beware the bottomless of the cup
for degradation that way lays
as noted by walking
these endless days
Tomorrows a birch boy the **** never seems to end
Old friends past
no trace remains
Happiness is a grand disillusion so let's not pretend
In those pines down
in that humid breeze
is where the past does exist
Buired are my thoughts
somewhere unmarked
is the grave underneath the leaves
From Carolina to Brisbane the weather's different
and always the same
Words passed between poems stories are all just different solutions to the exact duplicate game
No one knows where the wind blows
driving needles from the pines into veins that are on fire
But we keep on walking
Bare feet on black tar
Walking on until we tire
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC
Can we jam, brothers and sisters?
Dare we meet at the impalpable chat room
that exists beyond our third heaven?
Dare we to speak in tongues and timbres,
our skin taut across hollow shells,
our veins strung across cadaverous bodies?
I'll grab my drumsticks if you grab the guitars,
and there's somebody on the bongos
slappin' the skins with zealous fervor--
where my tambourine girls at?
Don't worry, I haven't forgotten our forlorn hero
sitting behind the keyboards--
Tickle me those ivories with pious hands and aching fingers,
shake em down sweet Jerry Lee!
And so we begin--
I lay down the drum beat that bops heads and scatters feet,
and the bassman always on top of things
slaps and slides and skips and sizzles
hot diggity dog!
I hear that sweet guitar scream and moan,
praying for death under hazy lights
and we all coast with eyes rolled back into our skulls
and torpid lips drooped open over slack jaws.
Not a word is said from a human voice,
we speak through hands and feet,
basking in colors eking from every kick drum stomp
and the desperate wail bleeding from amplifiers.
Feedback sings and screams, fighting the silence we taunt
and hold at bay.
Around every corner the colors trail
coursing through our vesselious bodies
propelled along the dizzying venture.
We somehow spot every pothole and take detours,
embarking down backroads and backalleys--
We can turn the wheel,
but don't think for a moment we know where it's going.
And the mirror's have all vanished,
we know not from where we came.
Someone shouts from the discovery
as we exit a phrase to enter serendipity,
toying with destiny, clay in our hands,
stretching out the ****** perennially--
We laugh as the gods try to remind us we are Man.
And the screams and the moans
sensing the ****** is getting close
so there's a crescendo I ramp up the tempo
ahhhhhhhHHHhhhHhHhHhHHHHHhhhETERNITY IS NOW AND WE HOLD THE KEY TO HEAVENS GATES AND TIME STANDS STILL AT HIGH NOON IN THE TOWN'S SQUARE WHERE TRIGGER FINGERS TREMOR AND WE SPEAK TO GOD ON HIS PRIVATE CHANNEL COMING THROUGH WORN SPEAKERS CELESTIAL CREATURES IT WOULD BE SACRILEGE IF WE WEREN'T SUDDENLY SO HOLY HOLY HOLY HOLY HOLY HOLY HOLY HOLY HOLY
So I say again, brothers and sisters,
can we jam?
SO I SAY AGAIN, BROTHERS AND SISTERS,
CAN WE JAM?
SO I SAY AGAIN, BROTHERS AND SISTERS,
CAN WE JAM?
So I say again,
brothers and sisters,
can we jam?
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 12:39 AM UTC
The butter started to glisten with fear
In the face of the icy saucer
In the silence the sound of the basket reciting angrily-
There was no place for an affair with
The strawberry jam.
So sickly sweet
The pleading knife resisted;
Don't make me do it
A smooth slice,
A pale & hard interior.
The shaking jug cried.
And the jam fell to the floor.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
Gone are the glory days of jam butties
when marmalade was shredded gold
and spam pretended to be ham
and plum jam tested for a cold.
The wireless was our window on the world.
The Weekly News and Guardian
gave local news, views and reviews.
Street chatter made stories that much fatter.
That world now reappears to me.
But in it I take no part.
No good, no bad, no clumsy me,
no touch, no sound, no sacred heart-to-heart.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
Exploring musical concepts
in the key of C aeolian, with some G mixolydian;
even some G Phrygian sometimes- dominant.
Naturally, there's also some blues scale licks.
Mostly in 4, but some parts are in 7;
others are in 5, while yet more are in 6
(which is arguably just 3, but I venture to argue all rhythms can be more easily conceptualized as combinations of 2s and 3s. Then, one may argue that it's all just 1s, but now it's just getting nit-picky.. think of it however works for you.)
There's even a groove in 27/16!
Who would do such a thing?
Then, it's also a bit of an experiment
when it comes to harmonic rhythm
(the rate at which key/chord/etc. changes happen)
All that **** east Indian music influence!
While I realize how little of that may make sense
unless One is to approach music fairly philosophically,
I implore thee to copy-paste the link below
to hear whatever it is I'm talking about.
Be warned, though: it's measures nearly 15 minutes long.
What can I say?
I tend to get a bit carried away...
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 4:00 PM UTC